


Possibilites For Eternity

by VarjoRuusu



Series: Vampire!Flint Universe [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood, Hurt, M/M, Mild Smut, Some comfort, Vampire AU, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-17 11:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11274675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: A little over a year after the three of them fled to Quebec, an accident leaves John fighting for his life. With James away and trapped by a snowstorm, Thomas must take care of him and hope that James will return in time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This spiraled. As usual. This universe is expanding at a freaking exponential rate.
> 
> This will run from around 1720 right up into 2017. Yay for turning it into a modern AU!

It was late November and winter had truly set in on the small property the three of them shared in Quebec. James had gone to town, plodding through the thick snow with their horse and wagon for much needed supplies. It had snowed for a week solid and the roads were only just beginning to clear enough that one of them could get to town for supplies. It had been a fight who would go and who would stay, but in the end James had gone alone. He'd been gone two days, and they expected him to be gone two or three more.

Thomas was pulling on his boots to go outside and help John clear the fresh snow that had fallen overnight when he heard a sickening crack from the direction of the small lake that boarded their land.

“John!” Thomas screamed, scrambling out the door as he tried to pull his other boot on, running as fast as he could toward where John had vanished below the ice. As he ran, John's head appeared again, breaking the surface with a loud curse, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the ice, gaining little as Thomas ran closer.

“Stay back!” John shouted, halting Thomas in his tracks. He bit his lip, looking around for something he could stretch out to John and spotted a loose fence beam, which he tugged at, knocking it loose so he could slide it across the cracking ice.

Shaking, from adrenalin and cold, John barely managed to grab the end of the beam, somehow holding on as Thomas pulled, dragging him out of the water and back onto the ice. With one hand on the beam he crawled along on his stomach to the shore where Thomas grabbed him and tugged him to safety, wrapping him up tightly in his arms and half dragging, half carrying him to the house.

Thomas quickly stripped John of his soaking clothes, wrapping a dry blanket around him and hurrying him in front of the bedroom fire before he ran for the warm water in the kitchen. He grabbed the kettle, a bucket of cold water and several clothes. Returning to the bedroom be poured both the hot and cold water in the tub, urging John to sit next to it, wrapping his hands and feet in the clothes, soaked with lukewarm water, trying to keep frostbite at bay. He was shaking himself when he finally looked up at John, who met his eyes with a tired smile.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I'm sorry I went out on the ice, I thought it was sound.”

“James is going to kill you,” Thomas replied just as softly, reaching out to caress John's cheek. “Wiggle your toes.” John obliged, wincing at the feeling returning to them and Thomas nodded. When he was satisfied that the warmer water and fire had done everything it could, he hustled John from the chair into bed after he dried him off, piling every blanket in the house on top of him before stripping his own clothes and crawling in next to him, wincing at the cold chill of John's skin as they pressed close together.

Eventually the shivering subsided and John dropped off to sleep, but Thomas stayed away, his thoughts whirling at how much worse it could have been. He must have drifted off eventually because when he woke again John was struggling to get away from him, out from under the covers, and his skin was burning.

“Fuck,” Thomas muttered the rare obscenity. He may curse in the bedroom, but outside that intimate situation he still hardly swore unless it called for it. And this certainly called for it.

“John?” Thomas called softly, only getting a weak response. He tucked the other man in carefully and dressed, fetching fresh water and stoking the fire, knowing the best treatment would be to sweat out the fever.

The day passed slowly, the fever rising and falling, John only taking sips of water now and then when Thomas prodded him hard enough. He refused to eat and eventually fell into a deep sleep. The same pattern held for three days while the snow fell outside the windows and Thomas hardly slept, trying to keep John's fever in check and keep water and broth in him. He was losing weight, fast, and Thomas could already count his ribs. John had been thinner since winter set in but Thomas was scared now, seeing no change in him by the fourth morning. The only positive thing was the snow had stopped in the night and James would have set out to return to the house.

The fifth night, the pattern changed. Through the night John thrashed with fevered nightmares as Thomas tried to calm him. He pushed the blankets away and shivered by turns, never settling. Finally just before dawn he fell into a deep sleep, pillowed on Thomas' chest. A few hours later Thomas was roused from a fitful sleep by the sound of the cart and he carefully extracted himself from the bed, brushing a hand over John's forehead to check his fever. It was still high, but it seemed to have steadied for the moment.

By the time he got outside the cart was there, but there was no sign of James, save for the trail of footprints to the barn. Thomas dug in the wagon, pulling a pile of blankets out before heading back into the house, knowing James would find him, and terrified of breaking the news to him at the same time. Thomas was not normally such a coward, but he'd hardly slept in five days for worry.

James sighed, pushing the barrel of salted meat into a corner before wandering into the house, curious why he hadn't seen the other two yet. It became apparent something was wrong when he reached the bedroom door and saw the fire roaring and John just visible beneath the blankets. He tossed his heavy coat on the chair by the door and moved over to the bed.

“Jesus Christ,” James said, frowning as he laid a hand against John's forehead.

“I was about to come find you,” Thomas said from the doorway, coming in with bowl of water in one hand and several blankets over his other arm.

“What happened?” James asked, mouth tight.

“He went out onto the lake,” Thomas said quietly. “Two days after you left. He fell through. I got him warm as soon as I could but the next morning he was feverish. He hasn't been lucid in two days and I can only get a little broth down him now and then.”

Thomas spread three more of the blankets over the already large pile before moving to wipe John's forehead with the cool water.

“He's been like this for five days?” James asked, aghast. “With no improvement?”

“He got worse last night,” Thomas said softly. “Nothing I do is helping. I don't know what else to do.”

“My blood,” James said quietly. “It saved his leg...it should cure a fever.”

“I don't think we have a choice at this point,” Thomas said weakly, his fingers threading through John's hair.

Stepping forward, James leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to John's forehead before standing back and opening a small cut on his wrist, holding it over John's mouth.

The blood dripped into his mouth, tongue instinctively darting out to catch the drops and Thomas took the opportunity to press a cup of water against his lips, which he drank several sips of before he fell back to the pillows, already drifting back to sleep, not having been truly awake. An hour later there was no improvement and James tried again. Four times through the day and night he fed John his blood and each time there was no change.

“Why isn't it working? It should be working,” James said quietly, his hands clutched around John's, ears straining to hear ever slow rattling breath, even with his vampirism. John was barely breathing and his heart beat so slowly that James was terrified that every beat would be the last. If anything John had gotten worse since he'd returned, each breath growing more and more labored.

Thomas laid his hands on James' shoulders, trying to give what comfort he could as his eyes watched John's face in the low light, using every ounce of his resolve to hold on to his composure. He was falling apart inside, just as James was falling apart before his eyes, but James was the one that had let go and Thomas needed to be strong. He'd lost James once, and James had lost him, and now they was facing losing John as well and Thomas wasn't sure if James could take it, vampire or no. He was still a man, and man who loved with his whole heart, gave his whole heart. As much as Thomas was hurting, he knew that James was hurting far worse, no matter how much Thomas loved the curly haired man. It was just how James was. He felt with his entire soul.

Suddenly John coughed violently, the sound wet and horrible as he clutched at this throat. Thomas pulled him up quickly and James sat behind him, holding him as he coughed, stroking his hair as he pressed his lips against the sweaty forehead.

“You're alright,” James muttered. “Please, please be alright.”

“James?”

James barely heard it, tilting his head down to find John's blue eyes cracked open, fixed on him and clear.

“John?” James whispered and John coughed again, hand blindly reaching for Thomas, who was there in a second, gripping him tightly and making sure John could see him.

“I'm here,” Thomas said softly. “We're both here, you're safe.”

“I love you,” John said quietly, barely squeezing Thomas' hand before he turned his eyes back to James, tears rolling down his cheeks as he coughed weakly. A spot of red appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Don't,” James said, voice as commanding as he could make it as it broke. “Don't you dare say it.”

“James, I love you so much,” John said softly, smiling as much as he could managed. “I love you, I always will. Forever.”

“Oh god, John,” James managed, his own tears flowing freely as he pulled John closer, cradling him as he coughed violently, tucking the head of dark curls under his chin as he rocked back and forth, ready to scream to the heavens not to take this from him. In his arms John stilled and James heard his heart beat slow until the next beat didn't come. The next breath didn't come. He was gone.

“No, no, no, no,” James sobbed, holding John tighter, as tight as he could. Thomas could do nothing but watch, his own tears flowing freely as he sobbed silently, clutching John's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

“Fuck!”

James snapped his head up, eyes wide. On the bed, John was sitting up, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his eyes wide. His _red_ eyes wide. It wasn't possible, vampirism was inherited, it couldn't be passed through a blood exchange. Only it had.

“James?” John asked, eyes settling on the other man and James sagged, rushing forward to envelope the other man in his arms. “What happened?” John begged, holding James tightly, eyes squeezed shut against the room around him, everything suddenly too sharp, too bright, too loud.

“You...jesus, you were dead,” James managed, pulling back enough to brush John's filthy hair out of his face. “You were dead.”

“Then what?”

“You turned,” James said, searching the red eyes before him. “I think you turned.”

John closed his eyes again, tilting his head back a little. When he opened them again his pupils were blown wide. “I can hear your blood,” he whispered. “I can hear Thomas, sitting at the kitchen table. I can...we have rats in the attic,” he frowned and James chuckled.

“I know we do,” he said, pressing a kiss to the side of John's head.

“And five chickens...where the fuck does that one keep hiding all the time?” he asked, tone petulant and annoyed. James laughed, glad that there was no immediate change to John's personality. This was going to be a big change for all of them and he didn't know the first thing about what to do.

“I don't know, but you're going to need blood,” James said softly. “You're going to need to feed.”

John nodded, slowly bringing his legs over the edge of the bed and standing shakily, leaning on James for a long moment before he nodded, taking his own weight and standing straight, allowing the slight dizziness to pass. James stayed close as they moved along the hallway to the kitchen. Thomas turned as they entered, his eyes widening.

“What happened?” he asked, raising to his feet but not immediately rushing forward. He could tell from the way James was standing, shielding John from him, or him from John, something wasn't right. John peered over James shoulder and Thomas saw his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

“I don't know how,” James whispered. “And right now I don't really care. But he needs blood and you're...”

“I'm the only one,” Thomas nodded, stepping forward, pushing his sleeve back without hesitation.

“James, I don't know if I can...” John said softly and James gripped his shoulder.

“It's alright, I'm here. I won't let anything bad happen,” he assured and John nodded, reaching for Thomas.

Thomas tensed as soon as John's fangs dug into his wrist and John pulled away immediately, sensing he was hurting the other man.

“John, don't stop,” Thomas said sternly and John shook his head.

“I won't hurt you,” he said, eyes hard.

“It doesn't matter, you need blood and I'm the only one for miles who can give it to you. I love you, and I will bear the pain if it will help you, do you hear me? Now drink,” he said when John nodded hesitantly.

Carefully John went back to his wrist, sinking his fangs in as carefully as he could, drawing in the blood he needed so desperately. The taste was tangy, musky, and he closed his eyes as he reveled in the new sensations that washed over him. Everything was so clear, so sharp, the noises around him loud as drums. He could hear James breathing, hear his heartbeat, he could feel Thomas' blood rushing through his body as he drank, hear his heart beating so quickly that John couldn't help but pull back a second time, staring up at Thomas worriedly. Thomas only smiled and reached for a cloth to press against his wrist.

“It is always like this?” John gasped, sinking to the floor, blue eyes wide. James shook his head with a chuckle as Thomas sat heavily in a chair.

“It dulls over time, until...well it may not with you, not with us. I didn't even feel the rush anymore, until that day I fed from you,” he admitted quietly.

“It's like everything is...brighter,” John said, amazed as he looked around with wide eyes.

“How did this happen?” John asked, drawing his knees up to his chest and staring at them both. His mind was still whirling around at breakneck speed but he'd been through enough over the last three years that he was able to push it away and ignore it for now.

“I don't know,” James whispered, looking at his hands. “But I'm...I'm glad it did.”

“I read something once, years and years ago,” Thomas said quietly. “A theory that it was possible to turn someone. It was in a French book, I don't remember much else. I brushed it aside as myth.”

“I'm a vampire,” John said quietly. “I'm a fucking vampire.”

Thomas watched them for a moment before rising and leaving the room, his head a mangled jumble of thoughts. He was shaking when he reached the back door, throwing it open and standing in the cold breeze as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you alright?” James asked, resting a hand on Thomas' shoulder.

“Am I alright,” he said quietly. “I don't know, James, I just don't know. Am I grateful that he's alive? More than anything. Am I worried what this will change? Terrified it will change everything. Am I scared what will happen when I start aging faster than both of you? I can't even think about it,” he said quietly, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, Thomas,” James said, tugging the other man around and into his arms. “We'll figure things out, I promise. You were so wonderful when you first found out about me, please trust me. I won't lose you, I'll find a way not to lose you, I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter, they're not going to be overly long in this story.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild Smut ahead!

“Fuck,” John gasped, dropping the body to the ground, the murderer drained dry of blood. He let his head fall back against the wall, eyes wide as he panted. He couldn't help but wonder if it had been like this for James when he was young, or if he'd learned to control the feeling that came from feeding early on because he'd been born with it.

“Better?” James asked, appearing out of nowhere.

“I need...I don't know what I need,” John gasped, James' sudden proximity setting his skin on fire. “Fuck, what happens if I bite you?” John asked, his eyes skating down to James' neck.

James' eyes flashed in the dark and suddenly John was pressed tight against the wall, hands trapped over his head and James' teeth in his neck. If he thought the bite had been intense before, that was nothing compared to this. He arched his hips, desperately seeking friction against his aching cock, anything. He was so close, every nerve buzzing, his skin blazing and tingling all at once. He couldn't think beyond his need to feel James' naked skin against him.

“Find out,” James growled in his ear as he pulled away from John's neck and John didn't hesitate to turn his head and sink his fangs into James' neck. He cried out against James, coming as soon as the blood touched his tongue, sending him spiraling higher than he could ever remember being, time and reality vanishing around him, his breath shuddering as he tasted.

When he came back to himself he felt settled and calm for the first time since he turned and James was watching him carefully.

“God,” John breathed. “That was...I feel myself again,” he said, resting his forehead against James'. “I love you,” he whispered, tilting his head and accepting James' kiss.

“We can't stay here,” James said quietly and John nodded.

“I know,” he whispered back, sliding his hands enough that he could lace their fingers together where James still held his hands against the wall. “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” James asked, pulling back with surprise.

“If I hadn't gone out on the ice, none of this would have happened,” John said refusing to look at James.

“John,” James said, freeing one hand to catch the other mans chin. “Look at me. Don't apologize. This is not the life I wanted for you, but you cannot imagine how selfishly I thanked whoever, whatever was listening that you're still _alive._ I can't live without you, do you hear me?”

“Thomas...”

“Thomas needs time to adjust to this, he'll be alright,” James promised. “He's just as glad as I am that you're still with us.”

John sighed, worry still clouding his heart as James stepped back and allowed him to stand on his own. He tugged at his sticky trousers and frowned, glancing at the man lying on the ground, suddenly feeling sick.

“Good,” James said, catching the look in his eyes. “Hold on to that. That's your humanity. Some vampires lose that, become deranged killers. Usually when they're getting old, but some that don't manifest until puberty go mad with the hunger when it sets in. I can only imagine how different it is for someone who's newly turned.”

“Was he really a killer?” John asked, toeing the dead mans boot.

“He was next to be hung in the morning,” James said quietly. “He murdered a fifteen year old whore two days ago.”

John nodded, pleased that his first victim had been a despicable rat who deserved to die anyway. He didn't know if he'd have been able to stop himself from draining that first body.

They returned to the house, finding the lights off and Thomas asleep in one of the spare rooms. At John's worried look James shook his head, pulling him into their bedroom and shutting the door.

“He just needs some space,” James said softly. “Give him time. He'll be alright.”

“Are you sure?” John asked softly. “I miss him.”

“I know,” James said, kissing John's forehead. “But I think it's better this way, for now, until you're completely settled. I've never heard of a vampire being turned, but I imagine it must feel a little like it did when I was fourteen.”

“Awful and like the world is too loud and bright and every little thing makes me want to kill?” John asked with a chuckle and James nodded.

“Come to bed,” he whispered, drawing John down to the covers with him. They drifted off to sleep until James was woken by John pressed along his back, shaking.

“James,” John whimpered, burying his face against James' neck. “It feels like I'm burning.”

“Shh,” James hushed him, rolling over and taking the other man in his arms. “It'll pass, I promise.”

“When,” John asked, voice barely above a whisper as he clutched James tightly.

“Soon,” James promised, nuzzling his ear.

“James, please,” John shuddered and James closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he rolled John on his back, the smell of arousal hitting him like a wall as his own sprang to life.

“You want me to fuck you?” James whispered and John whimpered, arching his hips up.

“Please, James, please,” he begged and James groaned, forehead falling against John's collarbone as one hand fumbled for the oil.

It was too fast and John cried out in pain when James pushed into him after only a few minutes but he grabbed James' shoulders and begged him not to stop, not now when it felt so good. James just groaned, fingers tightening around John's hips and pulling him up, deepening the angle as he fucked him hard and fast, grunting each time John cried out.

“Bite me,” James whispered and John didn't hesitate, his whole body clenching as James' blood washed over his tongue, his climax hitting him so hard he saw stars as he screamed. James grunted above him, shaking apart with his own release before collapsing next to John.

When John blinked his eyes open again there were tears in them as he snuggled close to James, his face downcast.

“How long until I don't feel like that?” he asked, pressing his nose into James' skin. “How long until I can live without this horrible hunger for your blood overwhelming me?”

“I don't know,” James whispered, smoothing down his hair. “I wish I did. I'm so sorry.”

In the doorway Thomas sighed and turned away, leaving them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to expand the immediate aftermath of John turning later, possibly with it's own story.


	4. Chapter 4

John was different, there as no doubt in that. Thomas had willingly given his blood that first night, biting his tongue hard when John's bite had burned like nothing he'd ever felt. He knew James had seen him flinch, could understand the quiet hiss of pain. They hadn't needed words to convey James' worry and Thomas has quietly taken his books and clothes and moved them to another room.

Staying back was hard for Thomas, especially after having just spent a week worried sick about John as his fever raged, but he knew that in this, he could not help. The fever had abated as John healed, but it had been replaced by a different kind of fever. The way James explained it, it was like being back in the ages between thirteen and twenty, when the world was upside down and nothing made sense. Thomas remembered those days well, he had met Miranda when he was fifteen and quickly realized that as wonderful as she was, he distinctly preferred the company of men to women. He couldn't imagine going through it again at the age he was.

John often woke late in the night, sometimes screaming, sometimes reaching for something that wasn't there. James did the best he could to help him through it, hardly knowing what to do himself. It was the strangest thing any of them had ever faced, the idea that a vampire could be created, rather than born. It left James confused and conflicted and Thomas wanting to offer help he didn't have. Instead, he quietly packed a few things, and after telling James, he left for Boston and Philadelphia, intent on finding something that would inform them better of just what they might have to deal with and for how long.

-:-:-

“James,” John whimpered, rolling over and burying his nose against James skin, another night's sleep interrupted.

“Are you all right?” James asked, shifting so that he could wrap his arms around John.

“It's not getting better,” John muttered, his hands tightening.

“It will, I promise,” James said softly, kissing John's forehead lightly, wiping away a few beads of sweat.

“I hope he finds something,” John said, not bothering to hold back the tears that were running down his face. “I don't know how much of this I can take.”

“Don't say that,” James muttered. “You're one of the strongest people I know, you can make it through this. It won't feel like this forever.”

“I miss Thomas,” John sniffed, burying his face against James chest.

“I know,” James whispered. “But I don't want you to worry about hurting him.”

“I understand,” James said. “I don't want to hurt him, and I don't know...I feel out of control, unless I've just had your blood.”

“Or just been fucked,” James smirked, trying to draw a laugh from John. He got a rough chuckle so he was satisfied for the moment.

“I always feel better after I've been fucked,” John mumbled, fingers drawing inarticulate patterns on James' chest as his hands relaxed a little, the skin to skin contact helping the buzzing in his blood. “I just want to sleep through the night,” he sighed, yawning.

“You never slept through the night,” James said, an eyebrow raised. “You've always been insatiable.”

“You're just too irresistible.”

“You sound like a woman,” James snorted. John shrugged.

“Well at this point, if it will get you to fuck me...”

“God,” James rolled his eyes. “If only to shut you up,” he muttered, rolling John on his back and kissing him deeply as the other man laughed loudly.

“I love you,” John said when James broke the kiss and James paused, looking down at him and taking in the open and ernest look on his face. He sighed, wondering how he'd come to be here. Two years ago he was hurt and broken and the most feared murderer in two hundred miles and now here he was, lying in the arms of a man who had barreled into his life and turned it upside down in more ways than one.

“I love you too, god help me,” James whispered quietly, kissing John softly.

-:-:-

John slept better as the weeks passed, his days spent working on the house to the point of exhaustion, anything to help keep the strange itching under his skin at bay. One evening he'd fallen asleep early and James, half asleep while watching him, didn't hear the cart pulling in or the footsteps in the hall until Thomas was standing in the doorway, a stack of books in one hand and his traveling cloak over one arm.

“You're back,” James smiled, patting the window seat beside him.

“This is what I found,” Thomas said quietly, not wanting to wake John as he sat. “It's happened before, though only a few times. Most people can't handle it, strangely it seems to lean towards women handing a turn better than a man. Men tend to...”

“Lose their minds and their humanity?” James asked, reaching for the top book and Thomas nodded.

“If he hasn't snapped yet, he's well on his way to being alright. Sometimes the problems he's having can last years, sometimes weeks. We'll just have to see what happens,” Thomas said and James nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning his head against Thomas' tiredly. “I think the worst of it passed while you were going. It was probably a smart move for you to leave for a while. He was scared he would have hurt you.”

Thomas sighed. “I didn't find an explanation for why...the bite hurt,” he said softly. “I wanted to know why his bite hurt. Yours never has.”

“Perhaps it's not just that every human reacts differently, perhaps some humans react differently to different vampires. I never really...my mother died when I was young, she never taught me that much about it and my father, he never spoke of it,” James said, looking at his hands for something to do with his eyes.

“Your mother was a vampire?” Thomas asked curiously, never having known James' exact origins.

“She was. She died in childbirth when I was...maybe seven. My sister didn't survive more than two or three months.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” James shrugged. “We're going to have to leave here...I was thinking we should go to Paris.”

“You want to go back to society?” Thomas asked, eyebrows raised.

“Cities have blood taverns and plenty of reprehensible people running around for dinner,” he chuckled. “He needs far more blood than I do, though I imagine after a while that won't be the case anymore, but we're too far from people. Besides,” he said, quirking a smile at Thomas. “I want new books.”

Thomas chuckled, threading his fingers with James' as they sat quietly against the window, watching John finally sleeping soundly for the first time in the month since he turned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update this time. They get longer again.

Paris was a filthy city, but after a month at sea it was a welcome change. The crossing had been hard on all of them, John more often than not keeping himself locked in his cabin for days at a time. Fortunately for them the ships doctor was aware that they were sailing with two vampires in their midst and provisions were made.

As soon as they were on land again and in a carriage to Paris, John had curled on the seat with his head in James' lap and drifted off to sleep, the other mans fingers in his hair. Thomas smiled softly, flipping through his book for the dozenth time, looking for anything he may have missed.

When they arrived in the city late at night, they took the last room at an inn on the outskirts of the city, fully prepared to go looking for a place to live in the morning. Thomas wandered the streets for a few hours before the sun set and when he returned, he found John and James arguing heatedly, their voices so low that he couldn't hear them, though he knew that to each other, they may very well sound like they were shouting.

“What's wrong?” he asked, closing and carefully bolting the door behind him. Both their heads snapped to him and then John looked back at James.

“Please,” he said softly and James sighed, scrutinizing him for a moment before nodding. Thomas blinked, confused, though not for long. A moment later John was in his arms, kissing him desperately and Thomas groaned, wrapping his arms around the younger man.

“Come to bed with us,” John whispered, stepping backwards and tugging Thomas with him.

“You're sure?” Thomas asked softly, glancing at James, who nodded.

“I miss you, Thomas,” John whispered, tugging until Thomas relented, stepping forward and covering John's mouth in a hungry kiss.

-:-:-

The house they found was larger than they had wanted, with four bedrooms, a salon, a kitchen, a library, a dining room, and three servants. They could afford it, certainly, but they had wanted something more low key. In the end it made no difference when they all three fell in love with it the moment they set foot inside.

The first months passed at an alarming rate, books quickly filling the empty library, all three of them settling into a new life. They even met a few of their neighbors. James went out almost every evening, looking for the vampires that he knew filled Paris, but it seemed like with everything else the French did, if you weren't part of the exclusive club, then you shouldn't even know the exclusive club existed. The blood taverns were strictly regulated and by appointment only, so there was no chance vampires came across one another in passing. It began to irritate James after a while and finally in a fit of frustration, he gave up.

The books they found were another matter. Tucked away in back alley nooks and shops, things that no self respecting man would ever be caught dead buying, they told macabre stories of born vampires, turned vampires, failed turnings, massacres that had been attributed to an army but in reality were one or two vampires.

As the months passed, John settled into his own skin and James discovered that you could prevent a vampire or a human from again, by giving them a vampire's blood regularly. Thomas had been unsure until John had begged him to try it, not wanting him to grow old while the two of them stayed young and finally, he relented. Time began to fly by and before they knew it, they had been in Paris for almost fifty years and it was the winter of 1770 when once more their lives were turned upside down.

The door thudded open, shocking James out of his book and he scrambled down the stairs as the wind and rain poured in.

“Thomas? Jesus,” James cried as Thomas dropped into his arms. His shirt was soaked in blood and his eyes were glassy. “John!” he shouted, but it was already too late. He could see the wound on Thomas' neck and knew there was no way to stop the blood, there was no way to heal a cut that bad.

“Oh god, no,” John sobbed as soon as he saw Thomas lying in James arms. He tore at his wrist, pressing his blood against Thomas' lips as he sank to his knees. The storm outside was forgotten.

As they listened, Thomas' heart stopped and his lungs deflated, refusing to draw in another breath. John looked up at James, his eyes filled with tears and James only shook his head.

“All we can do is wait,” he said brokenly. “Maybe it will work again. Maybe he'll...”

John nodded, clinging to their one hope as he helped James carry Thomas to the sofa, helped him wipe away the blood. The wound had closed, but that did not mean that the blood would have been enough to turn him. Like James said, all they could do was wait.

Hours passed, the storm died, the sun rose. Finally, finally, Thomas gasped and sat up, coughing violently as John rushed to steady him.

“You're all right, you're all right,” John whispered, holding Thomas carefully by the arms. “Just breath.”

“What happened?” Thomas gasped, his voice rough as if he hadn't used it for years. He worked his throat, swallowing around the phantom feeling that remained.

“You must have been attacked on the street,” James said quietly. “You made it back here, covered in blood. You died not long after. We could only wait, and hope you'd turn.”

“What would you have done if I hadn't?” Thomas asked weakly and James shook his head. He knew what he would have done, he probably would have gone out and find whoever attacked Thomas and killed every last one of them. And then possibly himself. It was why he'd refused to think about it.

“You're all right,” he said softly, repeating John's words, willing himself to believe them.


	6. Chapter 6

Thomas' transition was markedly different from John's. The first few days he was restless, then he shut himself in the library, sometimes for hours sometimes for days. He grew distant, hardly ever talking to the other two, who gave him his space to come to terms with his new reality and didn't press. Another year and they left Paris at last, traveling around Europe for months, years...for a while they stopped keeping track of the date.

It was near 1790 when Thomas snapped. It had began to grate on him, how different they had all become. How different he'd become. He'd never killed a man before he turned, hadn't wanted to after, but the blood hunger meant that for months he hadn't been able to control when he stopped and he had drained everyone he bit. Of course they were murderers and criminals, people that had no business being free in the world, but it still weighted on his conscience.

He barely even recognized James. He seemed to kill for sport now, hunting down rapists most often, letting them run, think they were going to escape, before dropping on them from a rooftop and draining them dry. He was becoming more like what Thomas imagined Captain Flint had been, in the days when James was hurting so badly he'd had no reason left to be human.

John was quiet, after the incident in Paris, hardly ever cracking a smile anymore. After a few months he'd stopped seeking Thomas out, stopped trying to coax him out of hiding and back into the world, stopped trying to persuade him to come back to their bed. It all came to a head one night in Budapest when John had found Thomas with a woman. He never told James, to Thomas' knowledge, but the betrayal in his eyes had been enough. Thomas left the next day.

It was 1850 before they came across him again, in a tiny smoke filled club in Edinburgh, Scotland. They had just come through the doors when James stopped dead, John bumping into him, loosely wrapping an arm around his waist in the darkness.

“What is it?” he asked, leaning close to James' ear. No one took notice of them and James leaned back, his knees weak.

“Thomas is here,” he said quietly, ready to turn around and flee. Behind him John shuddered.

“You're sure?” he asked, though now that he listened, he could hear it too. Buried under the sound of the drums was a familiar heartbeat, one ingrained so deep in his mind it was like coming home to hear it again.

“We could go,” James offered quietly and John shook his head.

“I have some things to say to him. Stay here,” James said and John started to protest, but then he backed away slowly. Instead he watched as James climbed the stairs to a private lounge in the small club and moments later a dozen people filed out of the room.

John snuck up the stairs, at war with himself, but he couldn't stay down there and not know what was happening. He came within hearing distance just in time to hear James shouting, words becoming clear as he approached. He had no idea what was being said without the other half of the conversation, but the tone was bad enough that he was worried.

“I'm not...how could you ask that? You left me, you left us! Did you think we were going to turn you away?”

Thomas' silence was all James needed as an answer.

“You fucking idiot,” he said softly and John bit his lip. “I spent years trying to find a way to turn you, to know that you would be alright. I couldn't risk you if it didn't work. I loved you too much for that.”

“Loved?” Thomas asked softly and John squeezed his eyes shut, leaning against the door heavily, trying to block the tears. He'd still never told James about the woman, but he suspected James already knew. He imagined James knew everything that had gone in their house, even if he hadn't said a word about it.

“It's been sixty years, Thomas!” James suddenly shouted. “Sixty!”

“It's not like you were alone,” was Thomas' weary response.

“Don't bring John into this,” James growled. “This is between us right now. I'll expect you to apologize to him later, but this is between us.”

“I couldn't take it anymore, James! You turned me into a killer! You didn't look at me the same, James, you didn't...I'm strong but I'm not that strong. Everything I'd ever lived my life for was destroyed the first time I killed a man. I was becoming something I couldn't stand to even look at in a mirror. I lost you once, had you ripped away from me in the middle of the night, do you think I wanted to wait around for you to leave me all on your own when you saw what a horrible person becoming a vampire made me?”

John didn't hear what happened next, he couldn't take it. He ran down the stairs and out into the night, unable to listen any longer, blaming himself because it had been his blood that turned Thomas.

“Jesus, you stupid, fucking,” James started, not even having the words as he stepped forward and grabbed Thomas' chin, kissing him desperately. “You were everything to me, Thomas,” he gasped. “You were my whole world, I fought a fucking war for you. How could you ever even _think_ that I would have left you again?” he demanded, not waiting for an answer as he kissed Thomas again, backing him up agains the wall, hands dragging at his clothes. Thomas moaned against him, his own fingers working quickly to rid James of this clothes, feeling pathetic for giving in so easily.

“James,” Thomas groaned, giving up and just ripping the shirt hastily, scrabbling for James' trousers.

“Bite me,” James demanded and Thomas groaned, his nose running along James' neck until he reached the scars he'd left there with his first bite and sank into them greedily. The waves of sorrow and loss that washed over him were almost too much and he hardly noticed when James got a hand around him, stroking them both together, their clothes a torn mess around them.

“Fuck, Thomas,” James gasped, pressing the other man against the wall tightly, tilting his head back to expose more of his neck. Thomas sucked greedily, perhaps taking more of James' blood than he should, but he was too hungry for it not to. He ripped his mouth away and kissed James desperately, hands grappling for his shoulders as he groaned, his hips moving of their own accord. A moment later James' fangs sunk into his neck and he saw white, crying out as the world collapsed around him and he fell back against the wall with a shudder.

James pressed his forehead against Thomas as he panted, shivering before he stepped away slowly, eyes dark as he righted their clothes, wiping away the mess with a handkerchief.

“This doesn't just mean-” Thomas started but James cut him off.

“I know,” James said, straightening his coat. “We're going to Italy. When you've finished here, I'd like it if you'd consider joining us.” He reached out and wiped away a small drop of blood, caught at the corner of Thomas' mouth. “We miss you.”

Turning, he walked away, leaving Thomas shaking where he leaned against the wall, tears running down his cheeks.

-:-:-

“Are you all right?” he asked John later, when he found the other man in a dark alley, standing over a dead man. John was shaking, unable to raise his eyes. He could smell it on James, knew what had transpired and he shook his head.

“Is he coming back?” he asked quietly, trying to keep his heartbreak in check. Even after all these years, all that had happened, he still loved and missed Thomas.

“I don't know,” James said softly and John nodded. He wasn't going to be angry at James for what just happened, but in a way it felt like his heart was breaking all over again. That James came back alone was too much for him and buried his face in James' chest and wept.

They left Scotland and went to Rome, settling in a small house, losing themselves in each other, losing time, forgetting the world. They fell into silence, no longer needing words to communicate and their days were filled with other things, art, books, the sites of the city. Nights were filled with dark unquenchable lust and blood.

Thomas appeared in 1900, finding them in their small flat in Florence, one bag in his hand and as look that said he expected to be turned away on his face. James just opened the door wider and once more, things changed between them.

One day when James was out of the flat John and Thomas fought about everything, about the blood, the murder, the women, what turned out to be a string of women and men, only one of which John had caught. He railed at Thomas for betraying them, especially for betraying James, for being such a selfish prick that he wouldn't even talk to them about it. When James returned that evening they were on opposite sides of the room, backs to each other. When pressed neither would speak about it, and they wouldn't speak to each other.

John moved his things into the second bedroom, feeling bad for leaving James caught between them without an explanation, but unable to forgive Thomas yet. He'd often go to sleep alone and wake to find James wrapped around him, but he knew he couldn't stay, he couldn't keep doing this to him. It would be easier if he just left. Finally, he made up his mind.

“James, are you awake?” John asked softly from the darkness and James blinked his eyes open, surprised he hadn't heard the other man approach.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly, reaching out for John's hand.

“I love you,” John whispered and James stirred, blinking sleepy eyes up at him as he tried to get his mind further awake than it was.

“Where are you going?” he asked, noting that John was dressed and his bag was by the door.

“I can't do this anymore, James, I just can't,” he said softly, blinking back the tears. He glanced over James at Thomas, who was holding James tightly, sound asleep. “I can't hurt you both.”

“You're not hurting anyone, John, don't do this,” James said quietly, reaching out a hand to cradle John's face.

“You don't need me anymore,” John sniffed and James shook his head.

“I'll always need you,” he said sternly, brushing away John's tears. “Always.”

“I can't,” John whispered, pressing a soft kiss to James' lips before he fled. James let him go, sinking back into the pillow with a sigh.

It hurt more than James could imagine, but in a way he understood. He knew there was a deep rift between John and Thomas, and he knew that he didn't want Thomas to leave again. He didn't want John to leave, but he could see how he would do it for the sake of James, to keep him from being caught in the middle. That didn't make it any better.

Quietly he slipped from the bed, leaving Thomas snoring lightly, and padded into John's room, burying his face in the pillows, wondering how long it would be before they could all just forgive each other for everything that had happened in their lives and start over.

Time passed, but it was years before he shared a bed with Thomas again, years before he didn't feel lost beyond imagining without John at his side.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFFY REUNION TIME

_2017_

James was enjoying the sunshine on his skin as he lounged on the bench in Central Park, trying to ignore the screech of children from the play area nearby. He let the sounds of the cars, the people, the city, press in on his ears, a jumbled mess so loud he couldn't hear himself thing. It felt like freedom, to lose himself in the cacophony of sound.

His nose twitched and he stiffened, a sound floating through the din that pushed its way inside his brain and persisted, until he took notice. It was a heartbeat, a single, solitary heartbeat, two hundred yards behind him down the past and coming closer. James sucked in his breath as he considered running. If it had taken him this long to hear it through all the other noise then surely-

“James,” the voice drifted to him and James squeezed his eyes a little tighter before he sat up, taking a deep breath and opening them as he turned to the voice behind him.

“John,” he said just as quietly, taking in John's crisp suit, his shorter hair, his more muscular shoulders. His face hadn't changed, right down to the dimple in his cheek that was there whenever his mouth moved.

John's eyes were taking in his own rumpled jacket, his too long hair, his barely styled beard, worn jeans and sneakers with holes in them. He knew he looked like a vagabond, but he didn't really care. He loved these clothes, had worn them almost to the point where soon Thomas would surreptitiously put them down the garbage chute. He'd fallen too far into his art the last fifty years to care.

“I...” John said, opening his mouth to speak then stopping. He bit his lip, the insecurity obvious in his eyes and for a moment it was like James was looking back in time, to when John was impossibly young and scared, fighting for his life in Nassau, a stole treasure ship, a pirate war. It seemed so long ago, almost three hundred years now. James watched as everything crumbled down and suddenly standing before him was the same man who had offered him his blood to survive the doldrums and James slowly rose to his feet.

“I missed you,” John whispered and James closed his eyes, the words washing over him as his heartbeat sped up. John's matched his and he opened his eyes again, green meeting blue in the warm afternoon sunlight.

When asked later neither one could say for sure who and even if one of them moved first, but seconds later they were wrapped in each other's arms, holding tightly. The next moment they were kissing desperately, in broad daylight, in the middle of central park, James' fingers buried in John's hair and John's arms around his waist.

“My loft is two minutes away,” John managed and James nodded, not even caring who saw them. They practically ran from the park and into John's building, a private elevator taking them to the top floor. By the time they stumbled through the door their jackets were left on the elevator floor and buttons were flying in every direction.

“Christ, you look beautiful,” James muttered, getting his lips on John's skin, soaking in the taste as he kissed across his chest. John's fingers dug in his hair and he groaned, tilting his head up and seeing the expression.

“James...I want..”

“Yes,” James said desperately before John could even finish. “Please, please, John,” he mumbled quietly, straightening up to smash their mouths together again.

By the time they reached the bedroom, how they managed to reach it at all was still a mystery, they were both naked and John had two fingers pressed deep inside James, slick with oil snagged when they passed the kitchen counter, the red haired man moaning against him desperately.

“God,” James groaned when John replaced his fingers with his cock, rocking into James in slow, short motions until he was fully seated. He closed his eyes, foreheads pressed together and just breathed. It felt like coming home.

“I missed you so fucking much,” John mumbled, rolling his hips slowly, suddenly wanting to go slowly, draw this out in case James didn't want more than this.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” James whispered, his hands clutched tight to John's shoulders. “Thomas left me, for a while.”

John paused and James shook his head, tugging him closer. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring him up,” James said, brushing John's cheek gently.

“I've missed him too,” John admitted quietly and James smiled.

“He misses you, even if he's too stubborn to admit it. Now will you please move? We can do feelings after we fuck,” he growled, hooking his ankles around John's back and tugging, causing John to moan.

“Aye aye captain,” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling at James and James shuddered, tilting his head as John's fangs sunk down and he moaned loudly as the world closed to a pinprick. The only thing he was still aware of through the heavy fog of pleasure was John's body over him, grinding into him, taking his blood and groaning as his hips sped up their pace.

“Bite me,” John whispered against James ear and he couldn't help but do just that, sinking his fangs into John's shoulder as he was dimly aware of John rolling them, James taking him even deeper once he was straddling John and he groaned, shifting his knees and raising his hips, only to slam back down hard, John's strong hands at his waist directing him.

James' eyes rolled back in his head as he drank, letting the tang slide around his mouth as John fucked him hard, pleasure building in the pit of his stomach so fast that when his release hit him all he could do was shudder, his back arching as his fangs dropped away and he searched blindly for John's mouth, the blood on both their lips mingling as they kissed desperately.

“Fuck,” John groaned into his mouth, pushing his hips up one last time as he spilled deep inside James.

They lay together until the sun went down, just listening to each other's hearts, not speaking until finally James shifted toward the edge of the bed and reached for his trousers.

“Are you going?” John asked softly, reaching out a hand to trail down James' back.

“I wouldn't think you'd want me to stay,” he said quietly.

“I want you to stay,” John said, laying his heart out in the open. “I'm sorry I left, I needed to find myself.”

James turned back to him with half a smile quirked on his lips. “And did you?”

“I found that I'm not myself without you,” John whispered and James snorted.

“You sound like a movie,” he said and John's eyes lit up in delight at the fact that James watched movies.

“Stay?” he said, rather than making one of the comments he really wanted.

“You and Thomas will have to work things out,” James said quietly, sliding back under the sheet. “I won't be caught in the middle again, it's not fair to me.”

“I know,” John whispered, pressing a kiss to James' forehead. “I will.”

“He's away in Europe right now, he'll be back in a week or two,” James muttered, tucking himself into John's arms.

“Will you stay until then?” John asked quietly, his hand brushing against James' skin softly in a random trail of fingertips.

“Yes,” James said quietly, tucking himself into John's arms and sighing deeply at the feeling of finally being home.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hello, Thomas,” John said smoothly, startling the other man. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Thomas was a vampire, his instincts had remained so human, and it was obvious that hadn't changed over the years.

“John,” Thomas said weakly, his shoulders slumping as he pushed the door shut. “James told me...well, he said you were here, in the city.”

“We need to talk,” John said, not relaxing his stance as Thomas turned slowly.

“I have nothing to say to you,” he said quietly.

“Well that's too bad, because I have some things to say to you and you're going to listen,” John ground out, trying to keep a reign on his temper. It had been over a hundred years, they need this out in the open.

“So say it,” Thomas snapped.

“I'm still, after all these years, mad at you for what happened. I've been mad at you for years for treating us both the way you did, for trying to handle whatever was wrong yourself. You had a problem, you should have brought it to me, to us, you shouldn't have just left. You hurt us both. But it's been long enough. I want to put it behind us.”

“Damn it, John,” Thomas shouted, throwing his bag on the floor. “You _turned_ me!”

“You were _dying,_ Thomas, do you think either one of us could have lived without you? Did you think we were just going to sit and do nothing?” John shouted back.

“I didn't want...” Thomas turned away, hands coming to grip the kitchen island tightly. “I was tired, John, I didn't want to keep going. I didn't want to become a fucking _killer._ ”

“And you resented me for turning you? Christ, Thomas, I loved you, I wasn't going to lose you. Not after everything,” John said quietly.

“I wanted it to be my choice,” Thomas muttered.

“You were _dying,_ ” John said again, walking over and dragging Thomas around to face him, pressing his thumbs along the sides of Thomas' throat, right below the hinge of his jaw. “You're throat was open from here to here,” he said, pressing his thumbs down gently. “I don't even know how you made it home.”

Thomas shivered, his eyes dropping shut as he sank onto a stool, bringing his face level with John's. “He never told me it was that bad,” he whispered, hands coming up to lay over John's. “I didn't know...I thought...”

“You thought we saw a small wound and we took advantage and turned you? Thomas you died in my arms less than a minute after we got you inside. How could you possibly think-”

“It changed me, all right!” Thomas nearly shouted. “Everything felt different after. I didn't feel like myself. I felt like I was drowning.”

“I know,” John whispered. “To me it felt like fire. The only thing that helped was James' blood. That's why I gave you my blood, I hoped that since I was the one who turned you, it would help.”

“I think it made it worse,” Thomas said softly, casting his eyes down. John sighed, leaning their foreheads together.

“I'm sorry. I wish I'd know...I wish you could have said.”

“I didn't have the words,” Thomas sighed and John nodded, brushing his thumbs back and forth.

“I know,” he whispered. “I'm so very sorry. I missed you so much, but when I left I couldn't take it anymore, I couldn't keep doing that to James. I couldn't forgive you for what you'd done, for shutting us out like that, but putting him in the middle like that, I couldn't do that, even if I'd rather have thrown you out a window.”

“You always did love him more than me,” Thomas chuckled, and John sighed.

“You're both so stupid sometimes,” he muttered, tilting his head and catching Thomas' lips in a deep kiss, drawing the other man against him. “I loved you just the same. With my whole fucking heart.”

“And now?” Thomas asked hesitantly.

“Now James and I have mended things, and you and I need to mend things,” John said softly. “If you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” Thomas said, tears suddenly falling down his cheeks. “I still fucking love you, even after all this time. I'm so sorry for what happened, for behaving like that. I was so lost and I didn't...I didn't think...you'd understand.”

“Even if we hadn't, you should have come to us,” John whispered and Thomas nodded, leaning forward against John, sighing as the other man embraced him and they just held each other tightly.

* * *

 

The three of them lounged around John's penthouse most days, James sketching or painting, Thomas reading, sometimes writing in a thick leather bound book, John running his company from a tablet. They had settled back into a routine, and if there was some awkwardness here and there, then they took it as a sign they were all healing.

“Well,” John sighed, tilting his glass of wine to catch the light. “It's about time I signed over my company to someone else and retired. I've been here almost fifteen years and they're starting to wonder why I haven't aged. Maybe I'll die in a car accident and leave it to a great nephew who lives in Siberia or something.”

“We're not going to Siberia,” Thomas said absently and John rolled his eyes as if to say 'no shit' before smirking at James.

“Actually we wanted to ask you about that,” James said, slipping his feet into Thomas' lap under his book. “How do you feel about buying an island?”

“An island?” Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows as he glanced between them.

“There's one for sale, not far from-”

“No,” Thomas interrupted. “Absolutely not.”

“It's rather too late I'm afraid,” John smirked. “The deal closed yesterday, and there's a magnificent 200 foot yacht waiting for us in the harbor.”

Thomas turned his eyes to James, who was positively glowing with love as he gazed at John and he sighed. His protest had been token anyway, but seeing the look in James' eyes, the promise of returning to the sea after so long, he couldn't say no.

“I have a deadline next week,” he said instead. “Can it wait until then?”

“Of course,” John smiled. “It will take some time to get everything in order here anyway.”

“Alright,” Thomas said, meeting John's eyes and smiling softly.

They still had a laundry basket of issues to work through, all three of them, but it was a new time, a new century, a chance to start a new life over from the beginning. After all, they only had eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section of the story is now finished! Thank you all! There may be more oneshots to come, but I'm not positive.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on Tumblr [Beneath The Black Sails](http://www.beneaththeblacksails.tumblr.com)


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